


the punishment staircase

by zhujungjungting (runswithchopsticks)



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Bondage, Dacryphilia, Dirty Talk, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Threesome - M/M/M, i need a rating higher than E for this lmao, welcome to hell lmaooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 22:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13327377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runswithchopsticks/pseuds/zhujungjungting
Summary: The first time Woojin cries also happens to be his first time in the punishment staircase.





	the punishment staircase

**Author's Note:**

> icb i wrote this  
> anyways thank u A for providing the video that inspired this, and thank u viv for like... actually making it into a concept
> 
> i really cannot fathom how in the world i wrote seongwoo like this when irl he's a certified kook

_start._

* * *

The first time Woojin cries also happens to be his first time in the punishment staircase.

The thing is, Woojin never cries. He never gets overly emotional. His expressions are easily captured by his bandmates. Whenever he’s happy, he’ll laugh and tease his friends. Whenever he’s down, he’ll be on the couch eating sweet rice cakes while huddled in a blanket, and then whoever’s available will surround him and watch whatever mundane sitcom is on airing on the TV with him. He's easy to comfort, never pushed to the brink of tears. Woojin just… _never_ cries. Nobody’s ever even seen him _close_ to the verge of shedding tears. That’s why, the first time a droplet slips down his cheek, Jihoon and Seongwoo both don’t know what to think, but at least Seongwoo can tell what his _dick_ is thinking.

Woojin, being (almost) just as asshole-y of a character as Seongwoo, made a bet with the older bastard. Honestly, now that Jihoon looks at it, it was both a terrible and wonderful decision (Woojin's tears are both lovely to look at and lovely to taste, deemed by Seongwoo. Jihoon doesn’t know if he should agree or feel guilty because he’s essentially saying his good friend crying is an amazing situation).

Somehow the topic of dicking had come up somewhere while all three were playing Monopoly and cracking open pistachios. There’d been beer, too, which made everyone all the more emotional and giggly, thus opening many conversational pathways. Seongwoo, in his mildly intoxicated state and with pistachio shells hooked on three of his fingers, had hysterically asked, “Hey Woojin, when’re you gonna let me finally fuck you?”

Woojin snorted as he rolled the die. Four spaces forward. “Sucks to be you,” he snarked, because he finally landed on the last yellow property and thus would completely dominate an entire side of the board by buying it. Jihoon wanted to smash his face onto the table at that moment, both because of Seongwoo’s question and the fact that no matter what he rolls on the die, he’s probably going to end up having to pay rent to Woojin on his next turn.

“Jihoon’s not enough satisfaction for ya, now you gotta get me?” Woojin scoffed.

“Hey!” Jihoon cried, “What the fuck, hyung, I let you put me in weird-ass costumes and you still--”

Seongwoo sighed into his salty palm--the one that’d had pistachio shells on his fingers--which caused the pistachio shells to fall on the carpet. Sungwoon’s gonna be pissed if he finds that later, Jihoon thought. “I’m not implying that you’re not enough, Jihoon,” Seongwoo muttered. “Nobody’s ever been able to touch Woojin. Nobody’s been able to wreck him enough to where he’s red and squirming and begging. _I_ want to be the first one to do that.” And then he leaned forward and leered at Woojin with a toothy grin, “So, Woojin, when’re you gonna let me fuck you?”

Woojin rolled his eyes. “Only if you can make me cry for the first time,” he replied.

“Hah!” Seongwoo exclaimed, throwing his head back and laughing, “That’s going to be easy.”

Woojin snorted, grinding his teeth. “You really think so?” He furrowed his eyebrows at Seongwoo in exasperation. “Your dick isn’t even that good.”

“Mmm, well, I bet I can make you cry without my dick,” Seongwoo hummed, nonplussed.

Woojin raised his eyebrows in mock shock. “Wanna make that an actual bet?” he asked, with a grin, because he was so sure that he’d be able to win.

“Oh hell yeah,” Seongwoo replied, “if I win, then I get to do whatever I want with you.”

“And if I win and you lose, then you’re not going to be allowed to touch me ever.”

Seongwoo grinned, showing all his teeth. “It’s on, sucker.”

Jihoon, sitting there quietly and slipping a pistachio into his mouth once in a while, piped up, “It’s your turn to roll, hyung.”

* * *

Well, Woojin had been entirely stupid to take Seongwoo up on that offer. All of them, even little Daehwi, Guanlin, and Jinyoung (although they’ve never seen any of their hyungs in it), know about the punishment staircase. There’s a large staircase in the middle of their dorm, leading to the rooms upstairs, and the wooden railings on it are spaced just wide enough to fit a person with a few centimeters of leeway on each side. Jihoon’s been in the punishment staircase before -- he wouldn’t describe it as _fun,_ since it really depends on how long you’re in there.

He didn’t even realize that Seongwoo was going to put Woojin inside the punishment staircase until he’d found his friend _actually_ in it who knows how long after Seongwoo had left him there to suffer.

Seongwoo, one Saturday afternoon in a gap period where they wouldn’t have schedules for the weekend, walks up to Woojin, grabbing him by the wrist and leading him away. Jihoon hadn’t thought much of it, for he was much too absorbed in the show he was watching, and he thought that maybe those two would be going over choreography.

“Safe word?” Seongwoo asks, once he and Woojin are standing next to the staircase.

“...Why?” Woojin asks tentatively. He frowns.

“You’re going to need one. If I’m going to make you cry, it’s not going to be good if it’s tears from actual pain.”

Woojin swivels his head around the room. What would he use? The first thing his eyes land on is a bouquet of flowers sitting on the table next to the door. “Bouquet,” he says.

“Alright,” Seongwoo hums.

“What’re you going to do to me?” Woojin asks anxiously. Now he’s actually nervous. It doesn’t seem like there’s anything odd or suspicious in the environment, but Seongwoo looks smug.

“Wait here,” he says, “I’ll be back in a moment.” When he returns, he’s holding two black leather straps in one hand and a chain with cuffs in the other. Woojin’s eyes immediately widen.

“You’re not going to--” he begins, but Seongwoo laughs, interrupting his voice.

“Yeah I am,” he chuckles. “Come on, get between the railing. Hands and knees, babe.” He nudges Woojin with a fist, and Woojin feels the leather straps in Seongwoo’s hand bump against his back. “Don’t forget to strip, too. You can keep your shirt on, I don’t care.”

When Woojin doesn’t move, he nudges him again. Woojin could back out of this, he could admit that he’s terribly anxious and a little bit terrified--he’s seen Jihoon in the punishment staircase, and he still is confused on whether his friend absolutely hates it or absolutely loves it--but a part of him tells him that he won’t, because he’s much too prideful and this ugly bastard standing right here next to him needs to have that smug grin wiped off of his face with a handful of dirt against a salty palm.

Woojin decides he’s going to be the one to do that. He’s already seething with anticipation. “Bring it on,” he growls, and Seongwoo’s grin only stretchers wider at the response. Woojin tentatively shuffles forward, and once he’s right in front of the railing does he slip off his sweats and underwear. The shirt he wears is much too big--he’d grabbed it out of the giant fresh laundry pile they have sitting in one of the hampers next to the washing machine, so it’s obviously not his--and it falls halfway down his thighs. When he gets on his hands and knees, sliding through the first railing slot with ease, a spark of embarrassment flairs up in his cheeks, because he’s never been in such a vulnerable position where _anyone_ could see. He hears Seongwoo crouch down behind him. Woojin can barely see behind him, because his torso folds against the wooden railing, and part of Seongwoo’s body is shielded by Woojin’s own form.

But he knows Seongwoo is doing _something,_ because he hears the soft clinking of metal. And then, a moment later, the hem of his shirt is being pushed up, and he squirms, trying to shake it back down, but Seongwoo immediately says, “Stop. You’re going to make it harder for me to adjust the straps, and if they somehow end up too tight you’re going to chafe badly.”

Woojin grumbles, but he forces himself to still. There’s a draft of cold air breezing across his rear, and he shivers -- it’s such a strange and new place to feel cool air against his skin, and this fact only increases his urge to squirm and sit back on his shins to hide himself.

He feels the press of cold leather against his left thigh, and his spine is wracked with another set of shivers. There’s another soft clink of metal, and then he feels the leather begin to tighten around his leg. Seongwoo hooks his fingers around the strap, slipping them in and tugging. “Is this loose enough? It’s not digging into your skin or anything, right?”

“No…” Woojin murmurs quietly. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable, but when he experimentally tries to move his leg, he ends up digging the inside of his thigh into the leather strap, and he’s unable to shift any part of his leg besides his knee and below. The railing next to him trembles slightly with force -- he’s tied to it, the leather binding him in his position.

Another strap is looped around his right thigh and buckled against the wooden railing, rendering him essentially unable to change position -- he can’t sink down onto his shins or lie on his stomach, only remain on his hands and knees.

“If you’re nervous, I’m not going to go intense on you immediately,” Seongwoo says, with a cautious edge in his voice. “The goal here is indeed to make you cry, but not cry tears of pain. Remember the safe word and use it if you need to.”

Woojin swallows, his throat slightly dry. Is he nervous? Of course, but he forces himself to bear it. “Bring it on,” he replies, pushing as much confidence as he can into his voice, but that doesn’t mean that his tone remains entirely level.

He hears Seongwoo scoff behind him. “I like your confidence,” Seongwoo snarks, voice teasing, which only further ignites the determination in Woojin’s chest, causing him to push back onto his haunches as far as the leather bindings allow him.

He doesn’t at all expect Seongwoo to immediately grab his dick hanging between his legs and slip on a ring -- Woojin makes a startled noise, and if he weren’t bound to the wooden railings, he would’ve immediately sat up on his shins. “Hyung, what’re you--”

“I don’t know if you’ve ever worn a ring, but just so you know this one’s made out of silicone. It’s not going to choke your dick to the point of intense pain, so relax.”

Woojin takes in a deep breath, forcing his nerves to relent, and once Seongwoo’s retracted his hands, he sighs.

He hears shuffling behind him, and a moment later there’s the cold press of metal against one of his ankles. A _click!_ afterwards, and he realizes what’s happening -- Seongwoo’s cuffing his ankles together.

Woojin forces himself to still. The chain is long, he’ll still be able to move around his ankles, just no farther than his shoulder width.

A few seconds later, after both of his joints have been cuffed, he feels something slightly chilly and very wet touch both sides of his ass. It’s smoothed over a moment after by a pair of warm palms, and he shivers. “What’s--”

“Lotion,” Seongwoo says simply.

“If that gets in me, is it--”

“You’re going to be fine,” Seongwoo interrupts, and Woojin can practically hear him rolling his eyes. Woojin grumbles, muttering excuses under his breath as Seongwoo continues to spread the lotion all over his rear. Seongwoo’s touch is warm and slow, and he begins kneading with his palms, pressing in his fingers to the softest and most pliable points of Woojin’s ass cheeks, and to Woojin, the sensation is both extremely comforting and a little bit arousing. He starts to arch his back just slightly, pushing back into Seongwoo’s hands.

“Hmm, I should’ve put you in here sooner,” Seongwoo muses. “Who knew that your hole was this pretty.”

Woojin begins to utter out a remark, but a shot of arousal races up his spine at Seongwoo’s words, so instead he ends up mumbling, “‘P-Pretty’?” His resolve is already beginning to dissolve, and Seongwoo hasn’t even gotten to the _punishment_ part of the punishment staircase.

“Yes,” Woojin hears. “Such a nice color. I can’t wait to lick it.”

Woojin lets out a breath, the curve in his spine just deepening slightly. He already feels the blood rushing to his dick even though Seongwoo hasn’t exactly touched him that much.

He doesn’t need to wait much longer, however, because a warm and wet finger smoothes over his hole, and his body is immediately wracked with violent shivers, goosebumps rising on his skin as his body trembles. He lets out an audible breath as the tip of that finger breaches just the smallest bit past his rim. It’s not like he hasn’t ever been fingered by someone else before, but at least then he had the ability to _move_ \-- and now Seongwoo’s sliding in his finger knuckle-deep in one swift movement, but Woojin can’t wriggle around that much to seat himself comfortably on it because his legs are bound.

Seongwoo is taking his sweet time, leisurely thrusting that one finger in and out of Woojin, sometimes poking around with the index finger of his other hand just to be a tease. Woojin’s trying to roll his hips, get that second finger inside of him, but Seongwoo doesn’t relent. He knows what Woojin wants, and he’s willing to give it, but right now his objective matters more: to make Woojin cry. The only way he knows he’d accomplish that without outright hurting him would be to tease it out of him.

The slide of a second finger is slow, languid, and Seongwoo’s using his first finger to hook around Woojin’s rim and tug while he slips the second finger in. The chain binding Woojin’s ankles clinks against the wooden floor as he shifts around erratically, trying to offset some of the uncomfortable yet pleasing feeling through his legs. At this point, his dick is completely hard. It pulses around the ring, but not yet to point where he feels uncomfortable.

Seongwoo’s movements as his fingers stretch, pressing around the inside of Woojin, are carefree. He doesn’t know Woojin’s limits in terms of how wide he can go, but he definitely knows that it’s probably not a width that many people would laugh at.

And besides, Jihoon can easily take four of Seongwoo’s fingers (with some lube and proper preparation, of course), so why can’t Woojin?

He works his way up to four, and Woojin’s taking them in very sweetly, wriggling around in his bindings to where Seongwoo hears clinking every second. Woojin’s back is caving up and down in pattern with the movements of Seongwoo’s fingers -- if he crooks them one way, Woojin’s back arches beautifully. Another way, and his back caves slightly up as he sucks in a sharp breath.

Seongwoo decides that he’s not going to let his fingers be the main source of Woojin’s downfall just to spite the younger. Maybe he’ll crouch in front of Woojin, smile, and kiss him as he’s shaking and trembling and all Woojin will be able to remember was that Seongwoo hadn’t even needed to actually touch his prostate to get him panting through his lips.

He retracts his fingers, and Woojin shakily groans from the loss of touch, but Seongwoo comfortingly rubs his ass cheeks and murmurs, “I’ll be right back.” Seongwoo returns a brief period later holding something in his hand, although Woojin has absolutely no clue what’s going on because he can’t see directly behind him.

He definitely _does_ realize something’s going on when he feels the press of cold, slickened silicone against his hole -- Seongwoo’s pushing something inside of him, and Woojin’s eyes widen. His wrists are beginning to hurt from keeping himself up on his hands and knees the entire time, and they threaten to collapse beneath him once whatever is inside of him stops moving. “H-Hyung, what’s--” he begins, but his words are choked the moment the item inside of him begins to move again. This time around, it’s not pushing further into him, but instead, it starts _vibrating._

 _It’s a vibrator,_ Woojin realizes, and his arms nearly fold beneath him, because the tip of the toy had just barely grazed his prostate when it was off, but now turned on, every single pulse from it feels like it’s slamming against his sensitive spot, and a slew of garbled curses tumbles out of his mouth.

“Let’s see how long it takes before the first tear, hmm?” Seongwoo says from somewhere behind him, and Woojin would normally snark back, but this time around his voice won’t work properly. His whole body feels like it’s being lit on fire, and he’s desperately grinding his teeth in order to prevent himself from making too many noises.

Seongwoo leans forward to stroke the small of Woojin’s back, his touch gentle and languid, a sharp contrast from the motions of the toy inside of Woojin. Woojin almost doesn’t feel his hyung’s hands on his skin, but when he notices what Seongwoo is doing, he nearly wants to scream, because the bastard is outright _mocking_ him. It would be an entire lie if Woojin said he weren’t enjoying the current situation at all. The pleasure from the vibrations inside of him isn’t to the point of overwhelming -- of course, it’s not a gentle and comforting buzz inside of his body, but it also most certainly isn’t intense enough to make him come immediately. And besides, he _is_ wearing the ring, although it certainly won’t delay a wet orgasm for that long.

“Lowest setting and look at you, shaking so much. Guess it doesn’t take much to get your limbs trembling to the point where you can barely keep yourself up, huh?”

The flush across Woojin’s cheeks intensifies at hearing Seongwoo’s words. “Y-Y-You--” he tries to grit out, but the words won’t come to him. If not for the pleasure racing up and down his spine, he’d notice the pain in his back from arching it so deeply.

“Can’t even talk properly, baby? Hmm. You know, I’ve got something else to do. Let’s see how you handle something more intense, alright?”

Woojin’s hardly given a second of warning before Seongwoo switches the toy on one notch up with a simple flick of his thumb against the remote, and Woojin isn’t sure if he screams or not because all his senses go numb for a moment. It’s not even that much of a change in vibration frequency and intensity between the first and second levels, but Woojin’s prostate is already becoming sensitive to any sort of touch with how long it’s been repeatedly standing against the toy. At this point, the head of his cock is constantly dripping beads of precome, slick and slightly sticky, a very thin and transparent thread connecting the tip of his dick to the floor beneath him. It’s come to the point where he’s sure an orgasm is oncoming, but the ring squeezes the base of his cock--now the press of it into his skin is much more noticeable with how hard he is--and he’s willing himself not to come, because then Seongwoo would likely laugh.

He hears shuffling noises behind him, then the sound of footsteps. He can barely lift up his head and see Seongwoo walking around him and back through the entryway to the living room. Woojin nearly shouts, “Hyung!” but he realizes Seongwoo wouldn’t pay any attention to him -- he’s left him here to suffer, hoping that tears would slip out in the process.

But Woojin digs his teeth into his bottom lip, squeezing his eyes shut, and he pours all his willpower into attempting to calm his nerves. If he focuses, he can make the vibrations against his prostate feel like a warm tickle -- right?

He doesn’t know how long he’s been crouched there, muscles tensed with how hard he’s trying to keep himself under control. At this point, he feels like he’s sweating blood, and his wrists have given way under him, so his elbows are digging harshly into the wood floor. Seongwoo had walked back and forth a few times, and each instance he passed Woojin he’d hum and toggle the vibrator up a level. Woojin isn’t sure how intense the toy can go, but every time he hears the shuffling of feet he prays he’s already hit the highest level; but to his dismay, there’s always one more level higher it can go.

At this point, everywhere in his body is numbed by either pleasure, pain, or a harsh mixture of both. His cock is constantly dripping from the head, and he’s not sure if it’s precome or come -- actually, he’s not sure what an orgasm feels like anymore, because what he’s remembered one feeling like pales in comparison to how he’s been feeling for at least the past several minutes. His entire body is trembling violently, and if not for the fact his thighs are strapped upright to the wooden railings, he would’ve collapsed on the ground a long time ago.

Jihoon pokes his head around the entryway at that moment, and when he sees Woojin on the brink of death while strapped to the staircase, he gasps. Woojin doesn’t even notice a pair of socked feet hurriedly shuffling towards him until Jihoon’s standing right in front of him.

“I knew hyung would pull something like this,” Jihoon hisses under his breath. Woojin’s ears throb as they pick up his friend’s voice. “God, this is your first time in it, right?”

Woojin painstakingly nods. He swallows, his mouth dry.

“What setting are you on?”

“I-I h-h-have no clue,” Woojin mumbles. Jihoon crouches down, wiping away the sweat from his friend’s forehead.

“You look like you’re about to throw up blood,” Jihoon murmurs. “You’ve probably been in here for some time, huh?”

Really, Woojin doesn’t know how long it’s been. He’s completely lost track of time, too focused on not completely letting himself go. The constant pulsing against his prostate is making his entire bottom half numbingly twitch--he’s long passed the stage of trying to violently jerk around his legs with no avail, because the leather digs into his flesh and it sort of hurts--and he has no clue how in the world he’s still surviving with all the sensations attacking him: the constant assault from the vibrator, the ring now squeezing noticeably painfully around his red and swollen cock, the slightly burning feeling from the leather against his skin if he moves too suddenly, and the weakening of his will to keep himself from collapsing, moaning too loudly, and of course -- crying. He’s had the definite urge to do so several times, always whenever he felt his resilience on the border of snapping in half, because everything is so unbearable and he just wants to come properly and have someone cradle him, but at the same time a lot of the pleasure racing up his nerves feels so numbingly good that part of him wants more stimulation.

Woojin’s so confused that he can’t form any sort of coherent thought.

Jihoon has now shuffled around Woojin and is standing on his knees right behind him. Normally, Woojin would be wholeheartedly embarrassed at Jihoon seeing him in such a vulnerable position from such an exposed angle, but at this point he can barely even notice that Jihoon is there.

“Woojin, you’re only halfway to the highest setting…” Jihoon murmurs, and Woojin’s eyes widen a few seconds later when he properly comprehends Jihoon’s words. Now he really feels like crying -- this means that if Seongwoo does turn the vibrator onto the highest setting, Woojin _will_ definitely scream and cry. His body is already reacting to the simple thought; he lets out an uncontrolled gasp, burying his face in his arms that are resting against the wood floor.

“Hyung shouldn’t have gone up that much especially since you’ve probably been in here for some time… it’s your first time, too…” Jihoon’s mumbling worriedly, hands held in front of him because he’s not sure what to do. His eyes flit around, and then he sees Woojin’s thighs straining against the black leather straps. There’s reddened indenting in the general area where the straps are pressing against Woojin’s flesh, and when Jihoon gently presses a fingerpad to Woojin’s skin, Woojin hisses sharply.

“They’re tied too tight too!” Jihoon grimaces, and he reaches out, pulling at a strap in order to try and loosen it.

But at that moment, he hears a voice right behind him. “Jihoon, did I say you could do that?”

“Oh... “ Jihoon murmurs, and he looks up. Woojin knows that voice anywhere -- at this point, he absolutely _hates_ it. “H-Hyung…”

“Really, this is between Woojin and I,” Seongwoo states crossly. “You’re not part of the bet.”

“But Woojin is…”

“Do I need to put you in the staircase too?”

Jihoon swallows. He’s not sure what to say, because Seongwoo is already tugging him up by the wrist, nudging him through the railings; and it’d be a complete lie to say that Jihoon wasn’t the least bit excited, because for one, the punishment staircase is sort of fun for him (and always afterwards Seongwoo has the responsibility of toting him around on his back for a few days because of how shaky his legs become), and besides, Jihoon’s been the one that’s put in the staircase most often. He definitely is curious to see what Woojin looks like while crying, and maybe if Jihoon finally manages to best him at _something,_ Woojin will actually shed a tear (not that he doesn’t already look like he will at any moment).

The straps are easy to fasten around Jihoon’s legs. He’s always been at the second to last hole for the buckle, and Seongwoo neglects the ankle cuffs and chain for him. He’s already half-hard by the time Seongwoo is gently stroking the small of his back, kissing along the dips in his body.

“Woojin,” Seongwoo says, and Woojin shakily lets out a groan to know that he’s heard. “You know, you should’ve just let me fuck you in the first place. Then, you wouldn’t have to go through this. But that’s not all -- watch me, Woojin. Watch me and see what I’m going to do to Jihoon. If you’d just given in in the first place, then maybe instead of Jihoon right here, it’d be you.”

Woojin, even though he wants to bury his face into the floor just to spite Seongwoo, painstakingly rearranges his arms and head so that one of his cheeks is pressed against a forearm as he turns his head to stare a few slots over at where Jihoon is crouched. Jihoon doesn’t look at all fazed; instead, he seems he’s wholeheartedly enjoying it, with the way his back is arching and the smoothness of the whines that’re escaping from the back of his throat, all from the simple trail of kisses Seongwoo is leaving on the backs of his thighs. It’s gentle and soft, Seongwoo's movements, polarizing from the roughened state he’d left Woojin.

Seongwoo works his way up, and pretty soon he’s kneading his hands into Jihoon’s ass, pulling apart his cheeks, and after pause he presses a tentative kiss to his hole. Jihoon whines, and now he’s stretching his arms out in front of him, arching his back and shifting around his legs -- if he weren’t restrained, he’d be raising his hips up, presenting himself willingly to Seongwoo. The flush mottling his face is a deep pink, brightening slightly as Seongwoo languidly breaches the ring of muscle with his tongue, some of the saliva he’d gathered in his mouth dripping down his chin and onto Jihoon’s hole, a trail slowly sliding its way down his perineum.

Seongwoo mouths around the area, making sure to smooth around with his tongue as much inside of Jihoon as he can, which elicits a soft moan from Jihoon. “Are you watching?” he says, voice muffled. “I could be rimming you instead, Woojin. Wouldn’t you like that? My lips kissing that pretty hole of yours before my saliva slickens you up. And instead of the vibrator being inside of you, it’d be my tongue, hot and wet and soft, not at all firm and silicone.” He gives a particularly loud and moist kiss to Jihoon’s hole, which emits a vague squelching noise, and Jihoon’s murmuring garbled curses under his breath, which sounds entirely unintelligible intermingled with his moans.

Woojin squeezes his eyes shut, his breaths ragged. Seongwoo’s right, Woojin would much rather have his hyung’s tongue inside of him instead of the vibrator. And with Seongwoo’s rather descriptive choice of words, images and feelings play vividly through Woojin’s mind. A searing wave of arousal punches him in the gut, and if anything, it nearly pushes him to a true orgasm, but he grits his teeth, clenching and unclenching his fists, and forces it down.

Although his eyes are mostly lidded, he can still see Seongwoo and Jihoon through a narrow sliver of his vision. Seongwoo’s stroking Jihoon now as he quietly tongues over Jihoon’s hole, licking stripes from his balls all the way to the top of his crack. It’s with quite practiced ease Seongwoo’s doing this, Woojin notices (well, _barely_ notices, because almost all of his brainpower is still being put forth to prevent himself from screaming and sobbing), and the thought comes to him of those hands and mouth touching him the same way that they’re touching Jihoon.

“Look,” Seongwoo hums, as he runs a fingertip over the outline of Jihoon’s balls, and when he scrapes his fingernail over the slightly wrinkled skin, Jihoon chokes, digging his fingers into wood, gasping for breath as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Look how prettily Jihoon is falling apart just for me. Don’t you think it’s quite a sight to see? If only you’d be like this for me too.” Seongwoo pauses for a moment, an index finger stroking up and down Jihoon’s perineum, grazing over his hole, the action completely casual and nonchalant. “Or, if you’re not willing to be this way just for me, what would happen if we added Jihoon into the mix? You know, I would love to watch you and Jihoon pressed up together, your cocks grinding together, an arm around each other’s waists as you finger each other. Your guys’ hips would be rutting so much, backs arching so nicely, pretty red blushes on your faces. And you know the best part? The tears in your guys’ eyes because both of you want to come so badly, but you can’t because I told you not to. I’m sitting there, watching, telling you guys what to do, and it’s not until I’m satisfied do you two finally get to come.”

Woojin has to bring a hand up and bite on it violently in order to keep his voice quiet and assist in willing away another overbearing sensation to come. His cock is still weakly dripping, but the ring squeezes around it each time he feels an oncoming orgasm, momentarily pausing the leaking.

One of Seongwoo’s hands has moved to play with Jihoon’s cock, stroking up and down the body before playing with the head using a thumb and index finger. His other hand is continuing to run up and down Jihoon’s crack and perineum, although now he’s using more than one finger, letting them graze and catch on Jihoon’s rim.

“See, when Jihoon’s back is shaking like this--” Seongwoo lifts up his hand and taps gently on the small of Jihoon’s back--Woojin notes that Jihoon is indeed trembling violently--before his fingers return to casually running along Jihoon’s perineum, “--that means he’s not too far from an orgasm. But you won’t come yet, right, Jihoon?”

With shaky breath, Jihoon manages to utter out a “N-No.”

Seongwoo cracks a smile. “Good boy,” he coos. Looking back at Woojin, he says, “See, he only comes when I tell him he can. He doesn’t even need a ring, his self-control is very good.” Seongwoo raises an eyebrow. “I wonder, with you and Jihoon rutting against each other and fingering each other, who would come first? Who’d lose control the fastest?”

And then, with a sly grin, looking Woojin straight in the eye, he adds, “I bet it’d be you, Woojin.”

At this point, flames of embarrassment, frustration, and anger are burning in the pit of Woojin’s stomach, and he absolutely hates it because that means there’s more than just the urge to come that he needs to stifle. If he shows Seongwoo that he’s perturbed by those words and images, then the older bastard would be having even more fun.

There’s a trickle of a tear slipping out of the corner of Jihoon’s eye, simply from the constant amount of teasing Seongwoo’s doing with his hands. Seongwoo coos lovingly, rewarding Jihoon with a kiss to his rim, which only encourages the slide of a tear down Jihoon’s opposite cheek. His eyes are reddening, noticeably glistening when he blinks and glances at Woojin, and a question flashes through Woojin’s mind: _What if Jihoon were me? Would I look like that too?_

“Oh, and right, I forgot to show you. Look at how I can wreck Jihoon without even having to use my dick.” Seongwoo stands up, crossing his arms. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

When he’s left the area, Woojin grits out, “H-How d-do you e-even survive?”

Jihoon’s words are much more coherent than Woojin’s when he replies. “Practice,” he says, his voice almost entirely breath, “a-and besides, I l-like it.”

Woojin turns away. He’s got no clue how much or how roughly Seongwoo fucks Jihoon--he knows it’s some extent of rough because oftentimes he can _vividly_ hear the two--but if this is Seongwoo being gentle, then what in the world is he like when he’s intense?

Seongwoo returns, a dildo in one hand, and Woojin watches with wide eyes as he slicks it up using the lotion from earlier. He places it against Jihoon’s rim, but before he pushes it in, he pauses.

“Hm, I forgot to do something,” he mutters. He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a small device -- Woojin is already choking, because he knows exactly what it is.

With a flick of Seongwoo’s thumb, Woojin is almost keening, biting into his hand to the point where he can feel pain from his skin tearing. Since he’d been on the same setting for an extended period of time, some of it had numbed him and he’d managed to will a small part of it to a pleasurable buzz, but with the heightened intensity it all of a sudden feels like the first time Seongwoo put the toy in him: a constant assault against his prostate, the vibrations flying up his spine, heating pooling directly into his cock, and it hits him just as harshly as if he were thrown against a brick wall.

It’s uncontrollable, the blurring of his vision and the sliver of wet that gathers at the corner of an eye. He’s screaming at himself in his head, but he’s not sure if it’s because he’d actually started tearing or if it’s because the cracks in his resilience have increased to the point where his whole self is threatening to break apart.

“Oh, you’ve finally started crying,” Seongwoo muses, one hand placed on Jihoon’s waist as the other one casually thrusts the dildo in and out of him. “Looks like I’ve won.”

Woojin can’t even reply, he’s gritting his teeth and trying to will his tears back up, but it seems that the more he tries to control them, the more they flow -- it’s all too much for him, and now he really does want to collapse on the floor and lay there for an eternity, but there’s the straps around his thighs keeping him up, and lying on the floor would not do much to stifle the painful pleasure wracking his body with every single vibration from the toy inside of him.

Jihoon turns his cheek, and he blinks at Woojin. His eyes are glassy, pupils enlarged, and his eyelashes are clumped together from his tears. The red on his face is splotchy, some parts of his skin shiny as the light reflects off of tear trails. He cries silently, lips twitching as if he were about to say anything, but whatever words had been in his mouth are swallowed down at a particularly hard thrust from Seongwoo’s hand, and instead what comes out of his lips is a sharp cry.

“I really can’t wait to finally fuck you, Woojin,” Seongwoo muses. “I wonder if you’ll react like Jihoon, or maybe there’ll be something different for me in store. I really do hope you cry though, your tears are quite beautiful to see.” He’s stroking the small of Jihoon’s back with his free hand -- “Shhh, I promise you’ll get to come soon, just hold out a little longer, okay?” he murmurs, and Jihoon nods silently. Seongwoo reaches into his back pocket again, and Woojin wants to scream, but his throat is so dry, it’s even painful to groan.

With a flick of Seongwoo’s thumb against the switch on the remote, Woojin chokes, voice rasping because he’s really at his limit now, with wet coating his cheeks, lips dry and peeling, and sweat soaking his body. The first couple of seconds of the new intensity setting rams into him forcefully, and he can’t take any more of the stimulation, it’s all too much. He’s coming in a split second, cock pulsing as it spurts white, his orgasm forceful enough that it overrides the painful clenching of the ring around the girth of his dick. His body quivers violently, and he digs his nails into the floor, fingers scrabbling and likely leaving scratches in the wood. He can’t see anything but white for several long seconds, and his breath is stuck in his throat -- it’s like he’s being suffocated, but in a good way, a relieving way, and he swears he does go unconscious for a moment, because when at least one of his senses begins to function properly again, he has no clue where he is or what happened.

“There we go,” Seongwoo hums, switching off the vibrator, and he places hand on Jihoon’s waist. “Woojin’s coming, so you can too.”

Without any sort of device around his cock, Jihoon’s coming easily, milky white coating the front of his thighs, his stomach, and the floor beneath him easily. His limbs are shaking, but he’s still retained enough control to be able to keep himself vaguely up. His wrists and knees are red and painful, so he carefully places himself on his elbows once the entirety of his orgasm has passed.

Seongwoo takes a deep breath. “Wow,” he mutters, taking in the scene of Woojin slumped on the floor and Jihoon giving up the rest of his strength and letting a cheek rest on the wood. He immediately begins to undo the buckle to Jihoon’s straps, and once released, Jihoon’s legs fall flat onto the floor, landing with a dull thud.

Seongwoo pulls at the latches on the cuffs around Woojin’s ankles, removing them gently and setting them to the side. He takes care not to pull too intensely when undoing the buckles on Woojin’s straps, because Woojin’s skin underneath is a violent red with signs of minor skin peeling in some places. His touch is even gentler when he wiggles the vibrator out of Woojin, who weakly hisses because his rim is extremely sensitive.

Once having placed everything in a pile to the side, Seongwoo begins with Woojin. He painstakingly lifts up the younger by his armpits, cradling him in his grip and trying not to touch him in any sensitive areas, before carrying him up the stairs to his room and setting him on his bed. “You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks, once Woojin’s head lolls to the side and he frowns at him.

“No, but I’m quite close to death, and it’s all because of you,” Woojin growls, his voice hoarse and raspy.

Seongwoo snorts. “Okay, I dare you to tell me you didn’t enjoy that one bit.”

Woojin makes some garbled noise, as if he were trying to protest but gave up halfway through the decision. He just rolls over, and in doing so he grumbles in mild pain.

Seongwoo rolls his eyes. He’s down the stairs to fetch Jihoon shortly later, only to be greeted with Minhyun peering through the entryway to the living room.

“Both of them, Seongwoo?” he asks critically, narrowing his eyes. “Is putting vibrators in two of our best dancers really necessary?”

Seongwoo shrugs. “What? You’d think I’d willingly lose to Woojin? No.” He sniffs. “And for the record, only Woojin had the vibrator.”

Minhyun scoffs. “Whatever, just properly clean this mess before any of the come dries, because then that’s a pain in the ass to get off of the wood. Also, please make sure you do it quickly, because I am sure Guanlin, Daehwi, and Jinyoung will be home very soon.”

Seongwoo huffs. “Was just about to do that once I got Jihoon on something that’s not a hard wood floor.”

Minhyun disappears with a haughty, “Whatever,” and Seongwoo sighs, shuffling over to pick up Jihoon.

“I hope Woojin doesn’t hate you now,” Jihoon says, blinking away any extra tears. His eyelashes are a little bit sticky.

“Well, if he does, then I guess that’s going to make sex with him even more interesting,” Seongwoo hums, and Jihoon rolls his eyes at the comment.

When he’s placed next to Woojin, he immediately asks, “You really are okay, right? You genuinely looked like you were about to cry and scream for blood.”

Woojin grumbles into his pillow. “Yes, but I will never walk for the rest of my life, thanks to that ugly bastard.”

Jihoon chuckles. “Alright,” he replies, patting Woojin on the head. “But did you at least enjoy that?”

Woojin makes an unintelligible noise -- he’s much too ashamed to say anything.

Seongwoo, after wiping away at the wood floors with some paper towels (Minhyun had popped in to help him, because he complained that Seongwoo wasn’t cleaning it thoroughly enough), reappears upstairs with dampened towels and begins to rub away at the various bodily fluids covering Woojin and Jihoon’s bodies. Jihoon gladly complies with Seongwoo’s requests to turn around or lift up a leg, but Seongwoo has to physically grab Woojin to properly wipe him down, which is a struggle because he has to balance grabbing him firmly enough to where he can move him (because Woojin’s resisting with all his leftover might) but gentle enough so that he doesn’t hurt him.

He later disappears again to drop the towels off in the laundry basket, and when he returns, Woojin’s already snoring.

“Wow, that was fast,” he comments, and Jihoon sighs.

“You can’t possibly expect him to still be awake after that entire fiasco, can you?” Jihoon replies.

Seongwoo cracks a grin. “True. I really did a number on him, didn’t I?”

Jihoon crosses his arms. “Whatever,” he mutters, slightly annoyed, “just come over here. It’s going to be a squish for three, but you can be on the outside because you’re bigger and you can prevent everyone from falling on the floor.”

“You mean ‘everyone’ as just you two,” Seongwoo points out, but he shrugs off his shirt anyways, leaving him in only his sweatpants, and gladly slips underneath the blanket held up for him by Jihoon.

“It was a good idea doing that before the time I usually take my afternoon nap,” Seongwoo murmurs.

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Shut up and go to sleep,” he retorts, but not before he scoots over, pressing up against Woojin (who hasn’t noticed anything, because he’s in quite a deep slumber), and tugging on the drawstrings of Seongwoo’s sweats to pull him closer.

* * *

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you my blessed grandma SEpuppupp for taking her time to proofread this.. and cheer me along the way... because we're both filthy lmao


End file.
